


Your Move

by speedgriffon



Series: The Way You Make Me Feel [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: AU in a AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enabled by shiva, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Masturbation, Other, Sexual Content, cliffhanger?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 00:08:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4645110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedgriffon/pseuds/speedgriffon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair can't stop thinking about Evelyn. (A response to a gift work to me).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Move

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eternalshiva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalshiva/gifts).



> Eternalshiva wrote something for me when I prompted her to write smut for this story. It left me ~~frustrated so I wrote this. Now we battle. Depending on where this leads it is not something that happens in the main story, but something that *could* happen. Anyways, enjoy.

Alistair knew—he  _knew_  and yet he had done nothing about it. He supposed he had done it all on purpose, for the sake of teasing Evelyn but when he retired for the evening and it was all he could think about he realized he wasn’t  _just_  teasing her—he was leading her on. A part of him felt guilty for doing so when they had promised each other they would focus on their friendship and ignore whatever was lingering beneath the surface.

 _Lingering_  was an understatement. By the look in Evelyn’s eyes and the way she was quivering in one spot under his gaze in the kitchen told him she was very much about to  _burst_  at any moment from whatever she was feeling. The ache in his chest had him hoping it was at least something more than lust.

 _“I still think about it, too_.”

 _Yes_ , he thought about  _that_  night—when they crashed together harder and louder than the storm that was the background for that evening. Alistair remembered every detail like it had happened  _yesterday_  and sometimes if he concentrated hard enough he could still feel the warmth of her body surrounding him in the present. He thought about it more than he cared to admit, sometimes to analyze where they went wrong when he had to remind himself it was just another step in their un-traditional relationship.

Other times it was to reflect how perfect it had been—the softness of her skin beneath his fingers, how she had changed since their  _first_ time and yet felt so familiar. The rise and fall of her breasts as she panted beneath him, the perfect dip of her navel and ridges of her scar that he had traced with his tongue and fingers over and over again.  _Maker_ —Alistair thought about the way she had looked sprawled beneath him, naked and  _beautiful_  and it only ached.

When she was gone, he hadn’t slept much. He tossed and turned in his bed with Bruce but would eventually fall asleep when exhaustion won over. Alistair missed Evelyn,  _longed_  for her and wanted her in so many ways that he couldn’t explain. To have her back in his life was one thing but there was still a part of him that desired more.

Knowing that there was something she was holding back only made the temptation harder to resist—time and time again since she returned they had found themselves in compromising situations and it wasn’t always Alistair’s fault. He understood Evelyn needed time and space to figure out her feelings, but he was growing impatient and wasn’t sure if he could keep up the act any longer.

He  _loved_  Evelyn. The fact she  _knew_ that was frustrating—but Alistair wanted to tell her almost every waking moment they were together. He wanted to tell her and kiss her and make love to her every night and tell her again when they awoke the next morning. When he walked into the kitchen and found her in a trance that was all too easy to decipher, something a little more primal washed over him.

What would Evelyn have done or said if he had kissed her there in the kitchen? What if he had told her he loved her and needed her right then and there? Alistair didn’t want to admit it but he had almost done it—if she allowed him, of course—taken her right there on the kitchen counter in the same spot where he had first kissed her all those months ago.

It’s all he could think about— _fucking_ Evelyn against the hard granite of the countertop as she clung to him, screaming and gasping out his name.  _No_ , he had to correct himself. Not  _fucking_ ; passionate and rough, maybe, but he would still be making love to her—he would always be  _making love to her_. Alistair only wished she knew how much he truly loved her— _needed_ —her.

What he  _really_  needed was a cold shower, but it was  _late_  and he didn’t want to risk disturbing Evelyn with unnecessary noises. He turned onto his back, but then recalled how he had heard the bath water running from Evelyn’s room not that long ago—she had been locked away for a long time  _herself_. What was  _she_  up to? Alistair gulped at the devious thoughts that crossed his mind, only made clearer by how easily it was to imagine her naked form, soaking in the tub.

He inhaled and a shiver sparked through his spine as he picked up just the faintest traces of her scented shampoo—kiwi and strawberry and so utterly  _Evelyn._ Alistair snapped open his eyes, his heart racing and arousal throbbing against his boxers. He bit down on his bottom lip until he tasted copper, wincing slightly but finding no distraction from the strain below. In all the time she was gone he hadn’t given himself release like this—the guilt was too much—but now, his need was on the verge of being painful.

At first he tried to simply close his eyes and distract himself by thinking about all the reports he had to catch up on at work but nothing pulled him away from the thought of Evelyn. His mind drifted and he thought about her wet skin, lined with sweat from the heat of the water…how her hair would stick to her forehead and neck and how delightful it would be to brush away with teasing fingers.

“Fuck.” Alistair cursed to himself before realizing there wasn’t much he could do but succumb to his own desires.

Quickly he shuffled beneath the sheets, discarding his boxers before inhaling sharply at how painfully erect he was. Only Evelyn could do this to him and knowing that she was only a few feet away  _naked_  made it so much worse. Alistair gripped himself in one hand, slowly stroking up as he exhaled and closed his eyes. He rested his other hand on his chest, fingers gently brushing along his sternum as he struggled to control his breathing.

Once again he pictured Evelyn in her bathtub, scented oils glistening on her skin and oh so alluring. The curve of her breasts perked over the edge of the water, pert nipples just barely visible. Alistair chewed on his bottom lip again as he squeezed himself a little harder, remembering how sweet her skin tasted and how her back had arched against him when he had teased her breasts with his mouth. He increased his pace when he thought about the possibility that Evelyn might be teasing  _herself_  in the very moment—it was a possibility after the tense moment they shared in the kitchen.

What it might be like to be there with her, sitting behind her,  _helping her_ —Alistair groaned behind clenched teeth as he caught a swipe of precum with his thumb before continuing his pace, closing his eyes tight and thanking the Maker for his vivid imagination. He could practically feel Evelyn’s warmth leaned against him, the smoothness of her skin under his fingers all pulled from memory.

And if she  _was_  pleasing herself as he was doing, he could picture that too—her hand dipping beneath the surface of the water between her thighs as she leaned back.  _Maker_ , he wanted to help. Alistair gripped himself tighter again as he thrust into his fist, grunting as he imagined running his hand along her thighs, teasing her as she leaned against him for support.

He would rub her clit expertly—like he had done so when he had worshiped her body  _that night_ —this time with his deft fingers instead of his tongue. Alistair caught another moan between pursed lips at the thought, the memory, of Evelyn’s taste; how surprised she had been by his actions and his  _talent_. He wanted to show her again and again as she cried out to the Maker, as she screamed his name.

Alistair thought about being in that tub with her, helping her find release before scooping her up into strong arms and crossing into her bedroom where he would make love to her,  _worship_  her, undo her and build her up again and lose himself completely within her until Evelyn fully understood that he was hers, heart and body and soul.

He could feel the tightness in his gut building, his breathing growing more erratic as more and more images flashed behind his closed eyes. Alistair didn’t care to close his mouth as he gasped out his pleasure, unable to hold back as he envisioned Evelyn begging him to come for her. His hand moved faster along his length, grip tight and unforgiving as he chased his end. The mattress was squeaking slightly as he lifted his hips, thrusting to meet his hand’s erratic movements.

“Maker’s breath—” Alistair choked out and curled his toes in anticipation for his end. “ _Evelyn_!”

“Alistair!”

His bedroom door swung open and Alistair snapped open his eyes, his hand freezing but body convulsing slightly as he came hard, seed spilling out across his abdomen in hot spurts as his hips continued to jerk upwards. He felt his entire body warm over in embarrassment as his eyes instantly in the same moment met his intruder, Evelyn staring at him wild eyed and equally embarrassed in the doorway wearing nothing but her fluffy mint colored bath robe.

Her hand on the doorknob tightened and the two did nothing to move for several moments, though it was obvious to see the fast way her pulse was running along her neck and the obvious dampness of her skin, water still dripping from her hair onto her shoulders.

“I—” It was all she said before she turned on her heel and closed the door behind her, though the thump against his door told him she was leaning against it most likely out of shock.

Alistair took a moment to collect his bearings; unsure of what had just happened was real or not. He glanced down at himself and slowly, the guilt started to bubble up in his chest—even after he cleaned himself up and made himself presentable could he really face her? He was sure he had just screwed things up even more, though he wasn’t sure to what extent. There was no coming back from this….right?


End file.
